


Ascension

by bluemojave



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: M/M, One Shot Collection, Only with a specific chapter which has a cw beforehand but it is referenced to later on, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:14:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24895999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemojave/pseuds/bluemojave
Summary: A collection of stories recorded by Deputy Cain Marshall, read out of order, after the nuclear winter that decimated Hope County.
Relationships: John Seed/Original Male Character(s), Male Deputy/John Seed, Sharky Boshaw/Male Deputy, Sharky Boshaw/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. Tango and Cash

April 12th, 2018

_Sharky Boshaw is an enigma._

Cain notes, watching the man sneak behind a group of angels by a Bliss farm with moderate difficulty. Now, Rook volunteered to do this himself after the other man’s previous...distaste for the “egghead” Dr. Lindsey they rescued earlier, but he insisted. After a long, mostly off-topic speech about how agile and fit he was, the deputy decided to back off and let him do it. At least it could be free entertainment, right?

Sharky did not disappoint, pulling barrel rolls and weird little jumps that consistently almost gave his cover away, if it wasn’t for the Deputy throwing rocks in the other direction and plucking them off with a shovel to the head. But finally, Boshaw gets to the center, carefully placing the bait on a stack of crates before running like hell back to cover. Thank god he took the time to clear out the angels.

They wait a few moments in anticipatory silence, Rook tensing up at the sound of feet crashing through the nearby flower fields until...a pack of skunks show up. Goddamn it.

The walkie-talkie crackles. “Hey Dep- ya know...I was looking at my calculations here and I think something was off.” Charles laughs sheepishly, causing Sharky to grumble before he runs back down the hill to deal with the critters. Cain leans against a nearby boulder to watch, sagging his shoulders.

“Yep. I can sure fucking see that.”

“Sorry! Sorry...uh...why don’t you head on back here- when it’s convenient! When it’s convenient...of course...and I’ll give you the new formula, ok? ....sorry.” The radio clicks off just as Boshaw yelps from down the hill. 

_Shit. Shitshitshit-_

Cain’s on his feet immediately, running down with a full sprint to find Sharky crouched on the ground surrounded by skunk corpses, rubbing his eyes and coughing. Rook busts out laughing, only covering his mouth when the rank smell starts to feel like it’s coating his mouth. Nasty. “He...he got me man.“ He collapses, head falling uncomfortably close to the burnt body of a dead skunk. “I can’t go on...” 

He continues to moan and groan in mock-agony as Cain skins each animal, tucking their pelts into his bag with his nose wrinkled at the odor emanating from the man beside him. He throws the last of the skunks into a pile far, far away from them, before lying down next to him. He stifles a gag, before patting his friend’s shoulder.

“Let’s be honest man, it really didn’t change how you smell.” Sharky scoffs indignantly, stripping off the desecrated hoodie and tossing it aside.

“This isn’t stink, man. It’s musk. You know...pheromones and shit. I’ve been pulling mad puss since I was a kid.Can barely keep ‘em off of me” The Deputy rolls his eyes at that one, but he plays it dead serious. “It’s a blessing and a curse, man.”

“Oh...I’m sure, I’m sure.” He laughs softly, looking up at the starry night. Back in L.A, he never got to see the stars- the pollution choked out any semblance of natural beauty in that city. Everything felt man-made, artificial. And he loved it, but there’s something different about being able to look up at the sky and see every constellation for yourself. 

“You know, I don’t like to get on you about much, but you kind of left me hanging there. I might have to bench ya one of these days...” Sharky says softly, turning his head to look at the Deputy. This close, Cain realizes, their shoulders are touching- his presence is warm and strong next to his. It’s weird, it’s almost reassuring to have him so close-

“Ok. Give me the silent treatment then. Two can play at that game.” He pouts, crossing his arms and scooting away from Rook in the dirt. Cain originally thought having him get sprayed would take the cake for tonight, but being able to egg him on is always an added bonus, so he stays silent. Besides, while he misses the warmth, the lack of skunk smell is refreshing, to say the least. He isn’t able to stay quiet for long, though. “Besides, I thought you were some big-shot hunter. You talked on and on about how your Daddy took you out in these woods all the time as a kid. Huntin’ competitions and shit.” His Dad. Damn, what a mood killer. 

Cain shrugs, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, which Sharky declines. He lights one and takes a long, thoughtful drag before he responds.

“Hmm. Maybe I’ve exposed too much of my mysterious and dark past with you, huh?” He exhales, watching the smoke spread up towards the night sky. “But yeah...I did. Took after him with it, I guess...that was the problem though. I never liked it...killing animals...not like he did, at least.” 

Shark sits up and nods, a little over-enthusiastic. “Yeah! Yeah, killin’ for fun, it’s, uh, it’s no good-“ Rook scoots next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. The goateed man is more than relieved that it’s too dark to see the blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“Boshaw, you forget I also took part in your little music scheme. Mutually assured destruction. Relax, man.” The ex-con sheepishly laughs, before pulling Cain into a moderately uncomfortable, mildly smelly hug in the dirt. What a charmer. 

“Thanks man, you’re one of the good ones.”

Dep can’t help but laugh at that as he pulls away. “Dude, you have no goddamn idea.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “What, you into some dark shit?” He pauses, before his jaw drops, demeanor changing instantly. “Wait, are you gonna snitch on me, man? After all we been through?”

“Nah, nah...” Rook trials off, unsure about how to go about this. Fuck it- why not tell him? “I...I’m not a career policeman...if that makes sense.” The confusion on the other man’s face is obvious, so he continues. “I’m an undercover investigative journalist.” It’s still not clicking, is it? “I became a junior deputy to root out the assholes.”

“Ohhhhh...” Boshaw nods slowly- he doesn’t look like he completely gets it, but this is as good as it’s probably going to get. “Damn dude, that’s kinda bad-ass. You’re like Sherlock Holmes or some shit.”

“Ehhh, maybe more like Bernstein...or Snowden, I guess.”

That blank look stares back at him. He puts his cigarette out in the dirt.

“Whistleblowing?”

Shark blinks once, twice. 

“Never mind. You...you get the idea.”

“Hell yeah I do!” Sharky pushes himself up onto his feet, tugging his dirty sweatshirt back over his head before offering his hand to Cain. “You and me, we’re like- we’re like Tango and Cash, man. Kicking ass and slaying puss-“ He cuts himself off, pulling the deputy onto his feet. “Unless you’re not into that, I guess...”

Rook chuckles. “Was it really that obvious?” 

Boshaw looks agape, glancing down at their interlocked hands, and then back up again. He quickly drops them, wiping his sweaty palms on his already dirty hoodie. “Wait, for real? I didn’t peg ya as gay or nothing- not that that’s a bad thing....I was just trying to be inclusive and-“

Cain claps him on the shoulder. “Nah, man. It’s no big deal...” He pauses, stifling a laugh. “Nice gaydar though.” Sharky laughs sheepishly as they begin the trek back to the prison.

—  


_I’ve met a hell of a lot of weird people during my little sojourn to Hope County, but Sharky Boshaw takes the cake. He’s one part arsonist, one part closeted redneck, and all parts hilarious to watch. He’s like your weird uncle who’ll offer you a beer and make dirty jokes...and also occasionally hit on you._

_He’s also the prime example of one of the biggest problems in America. He told me he’s been to prison over, and over, and over again, and nothing’s changed. He didn’t become a better person- he just got better at hiding from the cops._

_We need to do better._


	2. A Sinner's Prayer

March 24th, 2018

“For we know him who said, ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ and again, ‘The Lord will judge his people.’” Pastor Jerome looks up at the loud creak of the church doors to see Cain and Grace enter, Boomer padding behind. The old soldier plants herself by the window, the pup curling around her feet as the deputy strides in.

It was her idea to come back to the church. Beforehand, Cain had been more than content to just receive his orders over the walkie, but apparently that was “rude” and he needed to “give him a chance.” 

“I thank the Lord every day for bringing you here, deputy.” Jerome smiles, delicately setting down his Bible on the podium. Damn, he’s always so polite. It almost makes Cain feel shitty for avoiding him before...almost.

Rook’s eyes are immediately drawn to a large group of refugees scattered amongst dirty mattresses towards the back of the church. He’d snuck through the collapsed houses himself, but to see all these people, worn down and exhausted, it’s different. Worse than he’d imagined. 

The pastor snaps him out of thought by extending his arm for a firm handshake. “I know I said it back at the bar, but freeing Fall’s End...you’ve helped so many people. It’s letting people finally see an end to their suffering here.”

He beams at the praise as he returns the handshake. “Thanks. I guess I never really saw myself as the hero type. At least, not like this.” Cain gestures vaguely to Grace and his weaponry. “I tend to prefer the pen to the sword.” 

“Those who sow in peacekeeping reap a harvest of righteousness,” Jerome recites, bringing another smile to the deputy’s lips. 

“You always know just what to say, huh?” He retorts, almost teasing, as his attention is brought to the church itself.

It’s seen better days, with torn mattresses strewn across the empty floor space, the once pristine white paint chipping off of the high ceilings. Half of the windows are blown out and boarded up, casting dark shadows across the faces of the injured and ill scattered around the building. This is far different from the towering stained glass windows and Gothic architecture of his old cathedral- beaten up, but oddly homey, like an old southern farmhouse. He walks over to Grace’s window, bracing himself against it to look out towards the barricades the cult set up down the road.

“I definitely never thought I’d voluntarily come back to one of these again.” Cain chuckles, mostly to himself as he picks up a hymnal off of one of the nearby pews. "Lest God strike me down!" He rolls his shoulders back, letting his voice fill up the room. Rook lets the words hang in the air, as if giving God a chance to strike him. "No? Ok then." 

Armstrong stiffens at that. “I liked you better when you seemed like the strong, silent type,” She mumbles, just loud enough for Rook to hear. He opens his mouth to respond before meeting eyes with the pastor- for once, he decides it’s better to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he kneels down to pet the old farm dog, the hound sending a cloud of dust in the air with his tail.

“There are many reasons people turn away from the Church, but I want you to know that you are always welcome at this one,” Pastor Jerome says, voice without a hint of malice or dishonesty. It’s almost nice, but something doesn’t sit right with Rook- nobody says something like that if they don’t expect something in return. Cain learned a long time ago that these religious types always seemed to have an ulterior motive...just like everyone else.

“I appreciate it, I really do but, forgive me if I seem uncomfortable here.” Grace frowns- maybe taking him here wasn’t such a good idea. That kid really needs to learn when to keep his mouth shut. But when she glances over towards him from her post, he looks cool and calm, crossing the aisle towards the pastor with the dog trailing behind him. 

“Why?” Jerome’s directness almost takes him aback, before a small smile cracks across his face.

“I’m sure you don’t want to listen to me spew my life story...let’s just say that I went to Catholic School, and had a hell of a lot of fun...which they didn’t really appreciate.”

“That’ll get you.” The pastor’s easy response peaks Cain’s interest. Rook sets down the book and sits on a pew, hands idly scratching in-between Boomer’s ears. “But I promise you it’s not all fire and brimstone. And besides- you came here looking for something, didn’t you?”

The deputy cocks an eyebrow. Interesting. “Are you trying to convert me, Pastor?”

Jerome only smiles in response, taking a seat next to him. “I just want you to know that you’re not alone here. You have a whole town of people behind you.” He gestures to the refugees crowded in the back of the Church around a lamp, who wave cheerfully at the pair. 

“And you have God on your side, too, you know.”

“Really? Because from the bull-“ His eyes glance up to the cross mounted to the wall. “-crap that the Seed’s spew, it seems like God is more content to have this little resistance of ours exterminated.”

“Here.” Very suddenly, Jerome clasps his hands over the deputy’s. “Let me pray for you.”

This really catches Rook off guard. “Pray? Well- I, uh...I don’t...”

“Humor me.”

Pastor Jerome bows his head, and after a second, Cain does the same.  
—  
_Religion. It’s what got us into this mess and, for a lot of people here, it’s what’s helping them get through it. Ironic, isn’t it?_

_Pastor Jerome’s a hell of a guy. He’s the first priest I’ve met who gives off more “Jules Winnfield” than “Hellfire” vibes, and in that collar? Whew...almost makes me feel bad for avoiding him like the plague...future Cain, please cut your priest kink out of the final draft._

_One thing’s for damn sure though, that man will do anything to protect his congregation, and I respect the hell out of that. With him around, maybe we have God on our side after all...maybe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pastor Jerome is honestly so underrated- he was probably one of my favorite parts of Holland Valley. Also, this miiight go without saying, but all credit to the Bible...for the Bible quotes...lmao. Get ready for creepy John Seed being creepy in the next update.


	3. Lenocinium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for dubious consent, and some non-graphically described violence.

April 2nd, 2018

_Where the hell am I?_

Cain’s vision fades in and out to the sound of soft humming, his body heavy and immobile. Through half-lidded eyes, he tries to make out his surroundings. A set of antlers is set on the wall, pearly white and gaudy. Black trash bags hang from the ceiling. A flash of blue and black crosses the room to a table. Fluorescent light flashes in front of his eyes, and everything comes back to him at once.

_Grace. The car._

They didn’t get away. They...they crashed. Which must mean that the person in the room with him is... _shit_.

He swears against the duct tape placed over his mouth, straining against his leather binds. They’re a little loose. If he just-

John spins at the sound of a struggle, a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face. He swaggers over to the chair, tightening the constraints on his wrists until they almost cut his circulation. “Not a very good driver, are you?” The dark-haired man flashes him another shit-eating grin as Cain struggles against his binds, curses muffled and frantic as he pushes closer and closer. “What...trying to say something? Allow me...”

He takes his chin in his hands, tearing a corner of the duck tape with his thumb. He pulls it off, agonizingly slow, as if he’s savoring every second of discomfort on Rook’s face. Seed looks almost proud as his eyes flit over the irritated redness of his skin- at least, until Cain spits on his shoes.

“Fuck you, asshole.”

The lieutenant reels backwards in disgust, before backhanding the deputy across the cheek to a chorus of swears and insults.

Rook doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh come on. You’re the big bad John Seed and all you can muster is a little slap across the face? I expected more from you-“

The sight of the wooden board to his left makes him fall silent, much to the youngest Seed’s delight. Stapled to it in neat little strips is...human skin. The rectangles are bloody and rotting, the scent making him gag. Scrawled across each mangled piece of flesh is a sin- sloth, greed, lust. How ironic that his monument to rooting out sin is the picture-perfect example of wrath. 

“Jesus Christ-“

“Your hubris is...obnoxious, Deputy.” He tuts, using a handkerchief to wipe the spit off of his shoes. “I told Joseph this, and I’ll tell you.” His kidnapper approaches his chair again, starting to get uncomfortably close now. “You have no respect-“

“Respect? Respect? You kidnapped my friend. You’ve forced half the county into your little cult- I mean Jesus Christ, it’s not the Crusades. You’ve tortured so many people, and you want to talk about respect? No. I don’t have any respect for you, isn’t that obvious? Hell, I must have taken out at least half of your outposts by now.”

John strikes him again, this time close-fisted, making his head smack against the back of the chair with a loud thwack.

“You..” He points an accusatory finger at his chest, pausing to contemplate his next words carefully. “You and I are similar, Deputy. I was once consumed by my sin. It tainted every action, every word out of my mouth-“ He pauses, almost thoughtful. “It was my reason for living. But it was never enough. I was never enough. Until Joseph-“

“Oh, fuck off with your pseudo-philosophical bullshit monologue. Are you going to kill me or what?”

John almost laughs at that. Almost.

“Dogs like you don’t deserve death.” He grabs his face in his hands, tilting it this way and that to observe the scar striped across his neck. “As much as you might want it.” The way he looks at him sends a chill down Cain’s spine, like a scientist observing his subject, or a predator about to pounce on his prey. “Not yet, anyways...” The invasion of his space immediately gets his heart rate up as he tries to get out of his grip, ultimately to no avail as John only presses in further. He yanks his head forward, their faces so close he can feel his breath, hot against his cheek. His cheeks flush red. 

“Damn, can’t you at least take me to dinner first?” 

John blinks once, twice, before finally pulling away. He moves, almost methodically, towards his tools. As soon as his back is turned, Cain starts straining in his bindings again. There’s just enough wiggle room on the left side for him to yank the straps back and forth without making too much noise.

“I am going to expose your sin.”

As John examines a rather large blade, the Deputy forces his left wrist up at an angle, tugging the hinge out of the wood with a soft creak. Slowly but surely, the nails pop out, and the constraint breaks with a soft snap. Thankfully, John’s far too engrossed in himself to notice as he undoes the other bond.

The youngest Seed runs his hands over the mangled strips of flesh on the table, his finger following the carved divots of the word ‘lust.’ “Every little white lie, every mistake. Out there, for God to see. I am-“

_Smack!_

Cain swings a loose pipe, the impact singing with a loud crack as it collides into his shoulder. John staggers backwards, the pipe flying out of the deputy’s weakened grasp with a clang. 

“You...” John laughs to himself, cradling his arm in his free hand. “I seem to have underestimated your sin...” The lieutenant takes a slow, careful step towards Rook, who backs up towards the wall instinctively. “Not anymore.”

He lunges, grabbing his throat with his good hand and slamming him against the wall. His grip tightens as the deputy claws at John, struggling in vain to pry his fingers off of his windpipe. “I know exactly what you are, Deputy Cain.” The deputy kicks him where it hurts and John drops, before bracing himself against the wall as he gasps for breath.

Seed straightens with a wince, watching Cain panting as he struggles to stay upright. His eyes trail to the metal pipe laying abandoned in the corner of the room before he meets eyes with the deputy, an eyebrow cocked like a challenge.

_Shit._

As soon as his kidnapper takes a few steps towards it, Rook makes a run for him, hitting him in the chest and toppling him over into a heap on the ground. Cain straddles his waist, forcing him upright with a hand knotted in the front of his shirt.

“What the hell are you trying to pull here, huh?“ He shakes him, hard. “You’re not some white knight coming to save the poor, ignorant locals. You’re a goddamn terrorist.” John stays silent, with that stupid fucking smile on his face. “Huh? You gonna say something, smart ass?”

“Not even gonna buy me dinner first?”

Cain’s face flushes, off-put just enough for his grip to loosen and Seed to gain the upper hand. He flips them back over, knocking the air out of the deputy with a huff. Panting, he puts his hand back around his throat, but instead of going for the kill, his fingers trail up to his chin, his mouth. He runs his thumb across his bottom lip, parting it just slightly.

“Look at you...” His eyes rake over the deputy’s body unabashedly. “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you? “ He grabs Rook’s collar and pulls him into a kiss.

John kisses him like a man starved- desperate to get closer, to touch and feel every inch of him. The deputy runs his hands up his back and into his hair, fingers knotting into his dark locks. Very sharply, he pulls Seed’s head back, eliciting a delicious groan from his lips. Looking at him like that, panting, pupils blown-out- in that second, he knew he won.

He presses his feet flat against the floor, knees pushing John squarely into his lap as he grinds up into him. The lieutenant moans in his ear, pressing a fervent kiss against his neck as his teeth sink into the delicate skin in a trail to the collar of his shirt. When that gets in the way, he pulls it off in a quick, fluid motion over his head before Cain helps him pull off his own. As the lieutenant’s hands go down to his belt buckle, their eyes meet, and for a second, time seems to stand still. 

John’s body is covered in his sin. From head to toe, he is marked with his betrayals and transgressions- against others, against the world, against God. His wrath, his pride- it coats his skin like oil, drips out of his mouth like honey. Every touch to Cain’s skin leaves a mark, every kiss tightening its grip on his heart. Looking at John above him like that...it’s like looking in a mirror. 

He watches Seed tugging down his pants like a third party observer, sinking down, down, down out of the bunker, out of his mind as everything melds into static.

He finds himself back in his shitty old apartment, chain-smoking cigarettes as he stares out the window. The grass looks artificial, the trees unnaturally vibrant. His eyes turn to the people passing by, going about their days. Their faces are too warm, too happy, their movements stunted and glitched. He’s never felt more alone.

The next thing he sees is his father- terse and tight-lipped as a nun explains his newest grievances against his classmates, against God. The entire time, the old man just stares at him, eyes blank and unforgiving. They promise punishment with no chance of redemption. Confession with no chance of atonement. In his eyes, he’s already dead.

A moan in his ear brings him back to Earth, John panting above him. Seed kisses him again, hard, lips forming a small frown as he realizes Rook wasn’t returning the favor.

This was supposed to be his big win. To finally have Cain under his finger, to have him say yes, to hear him begging for more...it was a concept too delicious to pass up. But now, he finally has him all to himself, and the deputy is silent and unresponsive. “What..what’s your angle?” He breathes, voice thick and husky as grinds against him with another grunt. “Don’t you want this?”

Cain’s voice is uncharacteristically weak, his fingers digging into John’s waist. “No.”

The lieutenant stops almost immediately. “Excuse me?”

Rook’s face hardens. “No.” He flips them around in one fell swoop, fists landing on either side of John’s head. Cain hadn’t noticed before, but his whole body is shaking- he’s not sure if it’s with anger or with fear. “You don’t get it.” His voice finally breaks. “I fucking hate you.”

Everything rushes back at once. The feeling of John, hard underneath him. The pain in his throat, as if the lieutenant’s hands were still squeezed around it like a noose. The sweat coating his body. 

_No..._

Cain pushes him away, scrambling onto his feet with his discarded shirt in hand. Guilt burns his cheeks a dark red, hands furiously swiping away at hot tears. “No. Nononono-“ His rejection grows into a plea, voice cracking as he stumbles blindly towards the back wall.

“Fuck. I was...we were gonna...no!” He reels, staring down at the bewildered Seed still on the ground. “You’re a piece of shit, John. I would never- God...” 

_What the hell is wrong with you?_

The shift in John is almost immediate as he stands back up. “No....?”. He stalks over to him, hair askew and face beet red. “You...Cain.” He spits his name out like a swear, jabbing an accusatory finger in his direction. “You did this...you tempted me. You!” He grabs his wrist, forcing the other man to turn around and face him, to give him an explanation, but he finds nothing but fear in his eyes. 

With his fingers pressed to his pulse, John can feel his heart beating frantically, how his hand is trembling. He swears, backing away towards the opposite wall.

“I-“ He looks exasperated, pacing back and forth as he runs his hands through his hair. Then very suddenly, that nervous energy dissipates, anger flooding in its wake. “I am going to cut every inch of sin out of you.” He moves to his kit of weaponry, shining a sharp metal blade in the fluorescent lighting. Cain swallows hard, trying to calm himself down. His eyes glance feverishly towards the staircase John is stationed in front of. If he could just- 

“You will confess. You will reach atonement. And then you’ll see.” He turns over his tattoo gun, pricking his finger on the sharpened point with a wicked grin on his face.

“I’m going to fix this. Not for you. Not for me-“ He settles on picking up a heavy medical kit tucked in the corner of the room. “For Joseph.” The last thing he sees is yellow metal flying towards his face before he’s knocked unconscious. 

—

_Hudson...Mary...I’m sorry. I’m so goddamn sorry._

The paper flutters out of his hand like a decaying leaf from the tree, landing in the pile of pages Cain ripped from his notebook. The two sit in silence, the air thick with anxiety.

Joseph knows what he did. He always knew. And still, as he delicately picks up another story, another part of his soul, he remains quiet, observant. He weighs each paper, each transgression, in the palms of his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways John Seed deserves no rights. I'm very excited with the idea that I had to make this a bit more than just a collection of one-shots for Cain, I hope you guys enjoy that!


	4. Fallout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for attempted suicide and mentions of it through the chapter.
> 
> This one’s a little shorter than the others, but I hope you like it!

April 3rd, 2018

_This is it._

The rocky edges of the cliff crumble under his weight, and he falls back just as the peggies behind him crash through to the edge of the forest. John’s voice melds with their screams as he falls down, down, down. 

_This is the end._

But he wasn’t afraid, not really. He was...disappointed.

Cain has always imagined himself dying young, but it was never like this. He was supposed to be somebody. He was supposed to have this big break, to accomplish all his dreams and more. He was supposed shove his foot right up his father’s ass, and go out in a blaze of glory. 

But instead, he was falling to his death after one of the worst mistakes of his life. His back breaks the glossy surface of the Henbane River with a loud smack. 

_It was always going to end like this...wasn’t it?_

His parents were right. He was always going to die forgotten. In vain. After a life as meaningless as his death. 

Rook squints to look up at the surface of the water as the current tugs him under. The moon looks haunting, the water tinged green with Bliss as he sinks deeper into the muck. He could swim back up, if he really wanted to. There was still time. 

But what was the point? He could have killed John then and there. He could have freed Hudson, freed the entire damn valley. He was given an opportunity by being drug into that godforsaken vault, and he squandered it, betraying everyone he cared about in the process like the whore he is.

So instead, he lets out a big sigh, watching the rest of his oxygen float up in tiny bubbles. His lungs begin to burn, but the Bliss floods his system like Novocaine, the pain numbing as his back hits the bottom of the river. His muscles relax, eye fluttering shut as his vision begins to fade...until something grabs him and tugs him out of the river.

...  
..

When he wakes up, he’s sopping wet, limbs splayed on the rocky shores of the river. He scrambles for his glasses case, finding one of the lenses broken.

_Just like everything else, huh?_

The telltale signs of Bliss tinge his vision a sickly green, his forehead and the palms of his hands stained red with blood. As the deputy very slowly forces himself into a sitting position, he begins to cough feverishly, spitting out brackish water until his energy is exhausted.

_Can’t even kill yourself right._

For the first time in months, he begins to cry. The tears almost feel forced- slow and hot as they trickle down his dirty cheeks. He cries for Dutch, for Hudson. He cries until his body is out of water and he’s left a shivering mess, struggling to take air into his lungs. His vision blurs, sobs fogging up his cracked lenses as he convulses on the ground. 

_Jesus Christ, Cain, pull yourself together._

Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, Rook swipes at away at the hot tears pouring down his cheeks. The fog almost seems to rise with each muffled sob, coating his lungs like anesthetic as he feels himself start to slip away. Every vertebrae on his spine seems to relax, one by one, until he finds himself laying back in the dirt. His limbs refuse to move, refuse to run away. 

Very gently, a hand finally parts the bliss-filled curtain over his eyes, wiping away at his tears with a feather-light touch, as if he were a piece of porcelain that they were afraid to break. 

A pale butterfly flutters in the fog, and the instant they remove their hand to let it land on their finger, he feels a tremendous loss. As they turn their attention back to Cain, he can finally tell who it is.

_Faith._

She’s unnatural. Angelic. Beautiful. Her face is warm, and round, and bright, and it feels so...different than his.

Very gently, she begins to sing, rose petals falling off of her tongue, pure white. Her voice is like a siren-song- calling to his mind to quiet, his muscles to relax, keeping him tethered to the ground. An unnatural sense of warmth radiates from her, even as her form almost seems to shift and waver with the soft twilight breeze. It’s terrifying, but he can’t look away. 

For a second, they’re somewhere else. Somewhere safe, and free. For a second, all of the guilt, all of the anger built up in him, it fades away. But only for a second. 

And then she’s gone. The warmth subsides, the bank of the river grows silent and dark, and in that moment he’s never felt more alone. 

Very slowly, Cain is able to force himself back up onto unsteady feet. He follows the dim glow of the rising sun, limping towards any sign of refuse. 

Time seems to dredge on. Every muscle, every movement aches with every step. He could have been walking for hours, days even, his body moving on autopilot. The adrenaline from the crash starts to fade just as he sees a recently raided house. The windows are boarded up, with signs begging onlookers to “Join the bliss” adorning them in bright red spray paint. He brushes past it into the building, half-falling into the bathroom as he locks the door behind him. Rook rips off his sopping wet jacket, shoving it under the crack of the door to hide the light as he fumbles with the switch.

_What the hell did you do?_

Cain whimpers, bloody hands gripping the sides of the countertop as he struggles to stay upright. His eyes are fixated on the empty counter space, on the floor, anything but that goddamn mirror. Dutch, Mary, Hudson...it’s like they’re staring at him. Judging him. Hating him for what he’s done.

_Look at yourself._

He swallows, hard, and finally raises his head. The mirror before him is split in two, hairline fractures splintering out from a point of impact at the top of the glass. And in the middle is him.

There’s a large wound on the left side of his forehead, trails of blood sliding down his dirty skin like tears, pooling at the base of his neck, under his scar. His vision is unfocused and blurry, pupils wide and blown-out behind cracked lenses. His reflection wavers, distorted and unnatural, and he can’t help but stare. It could just be the Bliss, or some morbid curiosity, but it feels like looking at a stranger, like watching a car crash happen in slow motion, his dried up tears colliding with the blood pouring from his head. 

The room is silent except for the strained wheeze of his breath fogging up the glass in front of him. He watches, almost delirious, as flowers appear to sprout and bloom on his cheek, under his eye, on his neck, petals black and foreboding.

_You never change...do you? Always ready to be cast aside, just another goddamn playtoy for men like your father-_

He gags, retching into the nearby toilet as he grips it’s sides with white-knuckled fists to keep himself upright, petals fluttering like dust out of his mouth as his vision fades to black.

—  
_I finally encountered her. Faith. It might have just been the drugs, or the debilitating head wound, or the almost dying, but she was amazing._

_She pulled me out of the water like I was nothing. For a second, when she was gone, I started to feel like I was._


	5. Sway

April 25th, 2018

“You _really_ don’t think that’s gonna attract peggies?”

The music from Hurk’s radio blasts at full volume, echoing across the rugged landscape of the Whitetail Mountains. Hurk himself, however, is too preoccupied with downing another beer to notice, leaving Rook to anxiously scout around the outskirts of Hurk Sr.’s property before he finally answers.

“Nah man. After you and me got daddy’s truck back, we got the Monkey God on our side tonight. It’s time to get fucked up!” Almost as soon as the man raises his voice, his father’s booms out the cracked window of the house. 

“You better turn that liberal bullshit down or I’ll-”

“Daddy it’s just-“

“You get your ass up here this instant!” Jr. groans, dropping his beer can onto the dirt with a huff before trudging into the house like a scolded child. Rook braces himself against the old man’s campaign truck, taking a slow sip of his drink as he watches him leave.

“Hurk Sr.’s kind of a massive asshole, but you get used to him,” Boshaw remarks with a laugh, moving to turn up the radio even louder to drown out his yelling. The ex-con makes his way over to the deputy, eyeing the bandage peaking out over the collar of his shirt, the navy sling holding his right arm. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but Cain quickly shuts him down.

“It’s fine, Sharky, really.” 

Ever since they’d left the Henbane River, the pyro was constantly checking up on him, constantly doing things Rook was more than capable of doing himself. Cain _hated_ it, he hated having Boshaw walking on eggshells around him all the time. The ex-con simply scoffs in mock-astonishment in response.

“I wasn’t gonna ask you about it or nothing...” He dismisses, hiding a smile by taking a sip of his drink. 

“It?”

“No idea what you’re talking about, man.”

Cain shakes his head with a laugh, letting the music fill the silence between them. The sky in Montana is gorgeous at night. Bright white stars pepper a dark sky, the air cool and refreshing. After a moment, he turns his head to the man beside him. The porch-light almost seems to highlight the shadows on Boshaw’s face, under his eyes. He looks _exhausted_.

“You know, if you’re tired, you can go in. You don’t have to hold out for me,” Rook remarks, looking over the other man with concern.

Almost immediately, he shakes his head. “I know you’re a cop and all but there is no way you can get me to quit raging.” Almost to prove his point, he downs the rest of his beer, crushing the cup in his hand before reaching for another. “Besides, alcohol’s good for pain-“ He catches himself, taking another sip to hide his flustered expression. “Not that you have any, but-“

“I’m being serious, man. I don’t need you passing out on me.”

Boshaw’s eyebrows furrow. “It sounds like you’re trying to bench me, man. I know Hurk Jr.’s cool and all with all the “monkey god” and “oooh I’ve actually been out of the country” bullcrap but you ain’t gonna find a better shot than me.”

“I would never kick you out, Shark.”

The other man’s cheeks flash red, not that Cain notices, as he sets down his drink to shine the yellow smiley painted on his shovel with a rag. After a moment of contemplative silence, an idea strikes, and his eyes begin to shine.

“Do you dance?”

Shark beams at the question, obviously relieved at the change of tone as he starts to twist and turn to the music, the liquid sloshing out the sides of his cup. 

“Do you even need to ask, Shorty?”

He’s a little lopsided on his feet, with his ‘moves’ almost like little jumps more than anything coherent. It’s kind of cute, in an unbelievably awkward way.

“That’s...not what I meant.” Cain chuckles, sliding his shovel into the harness on his back. He offers a hand, confident and steady, to the other man.

“Oh.” Boshaw freezes immediately, obviously nervous. “Nah, man, I don’t really...” He takes a long look at his hand, cheeks flushing, before shaking his head. “Hell, why not.” He sets down his cup and takes it. Rook pulls him forward, flashing a wicked smile.

Truth be told, the deputy can’t dance very well either. He’s got rhythm, sure, but the most he’s danced was for the stupid classes his parents made him and Bailey take as a kid, and the sling isn’t making it any easier. Turns out, a 9 year old and a 13 year old are terrible dance partners- who knew? Even so, any chance to get Sharky off his game was reason enough for him. And besides...you can’t let good music go to waste, right?

Cain’s steps are slow and careful as they start to move, a strong hand on the other man’s back to lead. Ignoring the soft pain in his shoulder at the pressure from Sharky’s weight, they sway to the music, pace slow and steady. Even so, Boshaw _still_ manages to step on his feet. Thank god for steel-toed boots.

The ex-con radiates heat, making Rook sweat under his collar as he takes him into a spin, watching him trip over himself with a wide grin.

“Careful, now.”

He pulls him back into his embrace, arm tight and secure on his lower back. Sharky’s voice is uncharacteristically soft as they continue to dance, heart beating hard against his chest as they twist and turn.

“Dep...”

He sucks in another breath, before the words seem to tumble and trip out of his mouth.

“You know, you and I’ve bonded the last few weeks, and when I was layin in bed last night I was thinkin’ that we’re like fast and furious, ya know? Cause I’m like Dom, the sexy outlaw, and you’re Brian, cause your a badass cop and- and you’ve got those eyes that I could swim in for days and-“ The pair make eye contact and his voice catches in his throat. Cain’s are a warm brown, watching the other man stumble over his words with amusement. “It would, uh, it’d be a shame if things went back to how things were because now we’re-“

He almost chokes on the last sentence as he realized everything he’s said.

“We’re...we’re-“

He’s grateful when Rook cuts him off, stopping their slow sway to take him by the shoulder. “Of course not, Shark...I told you, there’s no way in hell I could ditch you after all we’ve been through. Ride or die, right?”

“Ride or die.” The ex-con sounds almost relieved when he says it, Cain pulling him into a loose hug as they let the music wash over them once again, at least, until Hurk Jr.’s voice cuts through it.

“It looks like the first meeting for Hurk’s Gates gonna have to get cut short for tonight-“

Rook’s hands are off him almost immediately, leaving Boshaw a little starstruck when his cousin comes pounding down the porch steps.

“-Daddy’s busy working on his campaign and he said he needs his manager to help him out since he is letting you get better at his house and all, and he ain’t want no free-loading commies here. Not to say that I think you’re a free-loader or nothing, that’s just what he said-“ He watches his cousin’s shoulders visibly slouch at the news, Cain taking a resigned sip of his drink.

“-Aw hell, I’m sorry guys.“

The deputy immediately shakes his head, putting a hand on Hurk’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, seriously. Sharky and I still managed to have fun-“ He flashes the other man a wide smile. “Right?” The word has a laugh to it, like he’s telling an inside joke.

Boshaw clears his throat, sheepishly running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, of course.”

Rook chuckles, patting Hurk on the back as he heads up the porch steps. “By the way, you’re a hell of a dance partner.” He throws his parting words over his shoulder, shooting the ex-con a quick wink as he heads inside, drink in hand.

—  
_I knew Hurk Sr. was a tool when I met him but goddamn he knows how to kill a mood, along with my faith in America. I couldn’t imagine living with someone that far gone- no wonder Addie and Hurk Jr. stay as far away as possible. And getting wrapped into his little “senator” scheme while there’s an entire fucking insurgence going on. Guess you could say he’s out of touch...out of time...anyways._

_Spending time with Sharky was...nice, though. I’ve never met someone like him before, someone so openly who they are even if it scares people off, or, ironically, gets him arrested. Looking at our country, and how it can produce someone so boldly ignorant as Hurk Sr., and someone like Sharky is absolutely mind-boggling to me...wow, I can’t believe I’m analyzing a man who almost sets me on fire every single day. But still, I like him. I like him a lot._

_God, these notes feel less and less objective every day. My old boss would be disappointed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to add in a bit of levity after how dark the last two chapters were. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also- let me know if the non-chronological format is working for ya’ll. I really wanna make sure everything’s easy to follow for you guys.


	6. The Bliss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long! Hoping to get back in the groove of things as college starts back up. Hope you enjoy!

April 7th, 2018

“Watch our for trouble while I’m down here, alright?” Cain instructs, moving down the ladder into the newly drained pipe below. When he glances back up, Sharky is pacing back and forth, fiddling with the trigger of his flame thrower. Boomer whines at his feet, pawing at the bloodstained dirt.

“Alright man, but something feels off about this. I got that wonky feeling again.” Rook laughs it off, moving through the pipe and destroying the first set of pumps with ease. He click his walkie-talkie on. 

“Look...Shark. If you’re really nervous, wait for me by the door. Once the next set of filters pop I’ll be right out. No worries, no stress, alright?” 

“Alright.”

The click of the radio echoes through the underground pipes, only interrupted by the subtle drip of Bliss water overhead. Even with the drug cleared, it almost feels foggy, like there’s a translucent curtain pulled over the room. Almost imperceivable, a whisper of a song rises and falls like the droplets of Bliss from the ceiling, barely a dull hum as he makes his way up the ladder.

The room is clouded with a green haze, white petals sparkling as they appear to fall from the ceiling onto the ground below. Rook pulls his shirt over his nose to try and damper the amount he’s inhaling, but it passes through the fabric easily, making his head buzz. He could call for Sharky, but that would involve admitting he was wrong...he’ll be fine, right? 

Faith’s voice answers, barely a hint of a response over the static in his ears. “You don’t have to do this, deputy. Don’t listen to their lies.” She warns, very gently, figure fading away in a puff of green smoke as Cain makes his way to a gasoline canister in the corner. She reappears next to him, placing a hand on top of his own. “Come with me.” 

When he turns to face her, he’s awestruck. Her eyes are like the sky, clouded with Bliss and such a warm regard for him that he almost sets the canister down, until he noticed a sinister little smile creeping on her lips as it grazes the floor.

Rapidly, he rushes to empty the canister and tosses it aside, reaching for his pistol. 

_Have to do this quickly, before-_

His eyes flash to hers again, anger visibly creeping out behind a mask of calm. 

Cain fires a round into the gasoline, lighting the room into a blaze that throws him back into the wall. The Bliss almost seems to catch him, turning his fall into flight as he goes up, up, up out of the pipe, out of his mind. 

The bliss is...beautiful, functioning almost like an eraser as it smooths out all his worries, all his concerns. His father, the crash...John. All washed away by Faith. A sense of warmth and belonging floods over him in waves, time passing like the scenery outside of a moving car. 

So easily, the siren is able to coax him out of his safe haven into a sea of Bliss. So willingly, he allows her to throw him against the rocky shore. Before he knows it, he’s on the cusp, Burke standing beside him. In that moment, with Faith floating like an angel in front of him, he would do anything. He does.

Together, they fall.

...

When he finally wakes up, he is surrounded by dead. The air is humid, thick with the smell of rotting flesh. Something hard and hot coats his face. Very slowly, he raises his hand to his face, only to be met with dried blood. He gags, rolling onto his stomach as he struggles to bring himself to his knees, then his feet. 

He finally allows himself to look at his surroundings, and what he finds sends a shudder through his entire body. Mangled corpses are strewn across the concrete, heads bashed in, limbs twisted this way and that like mannequins, like roadkill. His hand covers his mouth, which is frozen in a silent scream. 

The deputy retches back in horror, bracing himself against the cold stone behind him. After a moment, he finally lets himself look up.

_Joseph._

His figure stands as a monument to murder, the flat stone path at his feet like a canvas painted red. 

The world seems to sway and shift as he stumbles to brace, his headache throbbing in tune with his pulse. The world around him, it’s too fast. Too much. In a desperate attempt to ground himself he covers his eyes, taking in wheezing breaths as he desperately tries to slow his heart rate. 

_Have to get away..._

He lunges forward, in a vain attempt to escape, to get away from this hellhole, but he collided with strong arms that hold him upright.

“Hey...hey, you ok?” 

Sharky’s voice cuts through his daze like a knife, and as soon as the deputy realizes who he is, he collapses into his chest, body shaking with fear he didn’t know he was holding in.  
Boshaw freezes, almost taken aback, before he places gentle hands onto Rook’s blood soaked back.. “I...uh...I assumed you’d be here. It...it ain’t my first rodeo with the Bliss.” 

Cain sighs into his sweatshirt. “I...thanks.” His eyes flash up to find Grace, standing by a military green Jeep, her arms folded across her chest. When he straightens, her eyes go straight to the fading bruises on his neck.

“Grace.”

She stays at her position, gaze fixed on him. “Rook.”

Shark clears his throat, before moving his hands to the deputy’s shoulders and slowly lowering him to the ground. As he lays him back against a boulder, the arsonist gets to work, wetting a rag with alcohol and dabbing at the dried blood on Rook’s head. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to be his.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, he flashes him a cocky grin. “Told ya so. I knew you’d get fucked up on that Bliss.” He gestures to Grace behind them. “Had to call in the troops so us Cougar’s could come and save your ass.” He laughs, but Cain can tell it isn’t genuine. “I- well, don’t feel too bad about it, man. It’s like I told you, that shit can creep up on you.” Another pause, his cheeks flushing a crimson red. “I’m just glad you’re ok.” 

As Sharky helps him back to his feet, Grace finally decides to leave her post at the Jeep. She gets in his face immediately, causing him to trip on his heels back towards the boulders before her toned arms pull him into a tight hug. Her grip on him is strong, as if she’s afraid he’ll fall away again. 

“I’m not mad. I just- I wish you told me. About being in the Henbane. About John. We had to find out through Dutch.” Almost imperceptibly, she sniffles into his shoulder. “When my dad....I just wish you told me you were okay. That you made it. That’s all.” She pulls away quickly and straightens up, awkwardly glancing to Sharky before heading back to the car. 

The two share a quick glance before Boshaw throws an arm around his waist and helps him into the back of the Jeep.

—  
 _That bliss...it’s more than bread and circuses. I could of stayed in there forever. I would have, if they hadn’t found me._

_We need to get Burke out. If he’s in there much longer...I don’t know if we can save him._


	7. The Rook and the Bishop

May 4th, 2018

“What do you want, John?”

The pair sit in silence over the walkie talkie, the wound in Rook’s shoulder throbbing rhythmically like the ticking of a clock. 

It wasn’t uncommon for John to call. In fact, he’d gotten into the habit of doing so almost every day after Cain’s first encounter with Jacob. A few soft-spoken words here, a couple threats there, left like little love notes to drive the stake deeper into the deputy’s heart. 

For John, each and every one of their conversations was a back and forth, a give and take- like a game of chess. And this time, he was almost certain he’d win.

“I want you to atone, to confess. I want to mark you with every little sin you’ve committed, make you finally see the light-“

“Be honest with me. For once.”

Cain listens as John swallows, hard. For a second, he can almost see his adam’s apple bob, the way his mouth tightens...it sends a wave of nausea straight to his stomach.

“Joseph told me that if you are unwilling to atone, the gates of Eden will be closed to me.” His voice is uncharacteristically weak, but his words are painted with the telltale tinge of insincerity, of showmanship. 

“And?”

“And?” The other man is take aback by his boldness. He wants to yell, to chastise him for daring to question him so incessantly. But this little conversation is a dance, just like all the others. A trading of blows. He just needs to lead Rook where he wants him to.

“And I want to...make it up to you. Meet me at the center of the Bridge of Tears, tomorrow. No weapons, no extra men.” Cain simply scoffs in response.

“I appreciate that you’re taking the time to be so goddamn polite about trying to kill me, but there’s no way in hell I’m coming.”

_Kill you?_

“Always resorting to violence, to the worst possible end, aren’t we, Wrath?” 

_I will make sure this is the last time you do._

“Besides, I’m afraid you don’t have much of a choice, deputy,” John sneers. “I’m not sure of how much your little friend here can take anymore.”

“Hudson?”

_Checkmate._

“She’s carrying a lot of sins, my dear deputy. Her own, and, if you don’t play nice, yours.” A muffled scream echoes through the empty room, causing Rook such a fright that the radio clatters into his lap. He picks it up, cradling it next to his face like it’s his lifeline. “It’s funny, really, how fast one starts to talk when at the other end of the knife. It must be why God wields both the pen and the sword.”

“Let her go, you son of a-“

“Or what? You’ll hurt me? I promise you that for every time you lash out, for every time you spill innocent blood, I will enact it on her by tenfold...unless...” He lets the alternative hang in the air like an apple from a branch, a tantalizing escape from pain. “I’ll see you tomorrow. At dawn.”

The receiver clicks, and the walkie slides out of his hand like butter, falling to the floor with a clang that startles Jess out of her slumber. 

“What...what’s going on Rook?” The fear on his face is palpable, rousing her to her feet. “What the hell happened-“ Her eyes drift to the walkie on the floor. “Shit. Shit-“ She drops, placing both hands on his heaving shoulders, grip strong and firm. “You need to listen to me, whatever that bastard said, I’m going to-“

“He’s going to kill her, Jess. He’s not like Joseph- he doesn’t care about the goddamn cult, or some bullshit atonement for her sins, he’s going to fucking kill her unless-“ 

“Unless?”

“Un-unless I go to meet him. Tomorrow. Alone.”

“Fuck!” She bites hard into her thumb, holding back a few choice words. “I...” The archer lifts the radio up to her lips, switching the channel to Dutch’s. “We need your help. Now.”

-  
_I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I leave the valley and I’m still under his thumb. I always will be until we get Joey out of there...I can’t imagine what she’s been through. She has to be ok. She will be._

_Jess is going to be a hard sell to keep away from the meeting...I just hope that Sharky can hold her back long enough so John can get his rocks off over whatever this “meeting” is about. God, just the thought makes me fucking sick. I can’t...I can’t, but I have to. Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little meeting I’m setting up is gonna be my primary divergence from the canon, so I hope you enjoy the little addition! I love writing manipulative fucker John, and always wished John had 3 meetings before you fight him like the other heralds. Also- I’ve just moved back to college, so my scheduling for posting chapters might be a little bit off now, but I hope you enjoy! (I also hope you like the chess pun...I’m proud of it.)


	8. Hunted

May 1st, 2018

“You shouldn’t have come for me...” Deputy Pratt’s voice just cuts through Cain’s bliss-induced haze, barely a whisper as he adjusts the binds on his wrists. “You should have ran.” He looks up, pupils shrinking like prey caught by its predator as Jacob Seed stalks into the room. 

The man in front of him is taunt, ready to pounce. His anger is ingrained in every burn on his skin, glowering brighter than the fire that ravaged him. But even with such a hulking presence, Rook can barely hear his words over a dull static in his head. His ear ring from his collision with the hunter who found him, muscles weighed down as if he were still on top of him, jabbing a needle into his neck.

Pratt sulks behind him like his shadow, eyes downcast, as if he couldn’t bare to look at what he’s allowing to happen. Like an animal rolling onto it’s back in defeat, he leaves himself open to attack. Maybe, if he were brave, he would jump onto the eldest Seed’s back...wrap his hands around his throat, dig his nails into the soft skin until he hits pay dirt. But Jacob Seed is not like the Whitetails in the room, not even like the deputy. Jacob Seed is strong.

Cain’s eyes drift away from Pratt to his fingers, which lay limp against the armrest. With all his brainpower, he tries to move his thumb, but it stays relaxed and unresponsive. Only when Jacob approaches Rook’s chair is he brought back to the real world, the older man’s voice dropping as the PowerPoint behind him continues to click. 

“I know what’s been done to you.” 

_Click._

“What you’ve been through.” 

_Click._

“What...what he did.” John’s name hangs in the air between them, causing Cain’s cheeks to flush red.

_Click._

“But look...” He grips the arms of Rook’s chair tightly, watching as he struggles to move against his binds.

_Click._

Seed's gaze seems to linger on the bandage peeking out over his collar, a flash of contentment as he presses his fingers into the wound, working swears and threats out of Rook as he tries in vain to struggle out of his grasp. "You're still fighting." He looks away for a second at the other two Whitetails in the room, and scoffs. “For the weak. For the hunted.” His voice picks back up, booming. “Not anymore. Because now...” He reaches for a small wooden music box “The collapse is almost upon us, and this time, the lives of the few outweigh the lives of the many.” He almost laughs as he twists the crank, looking Cain dead in the eyes. “You have forgotten what it means to be strong. What it means to sacrifice.” Something flickers behind those blue eyes he can’t place. “I'm going to change that.”

_Only you..._

Heart pumping out of his chest. Muscles taut. Body poised and ready.

_Can make this world seem right...._

The air is thick, and heavy, and warm. 

_Only you..._

The sky glowers red, burning his skin as if he'd flown too close to the sun.

_Can make the darkness bright..._

He pulls the trigger like it’s an extension of himself. The people before him dissipate into smoke.

_Only you...._

When he finally comes to, he’s laying sideways on the dirt next to a dead body, the air reeking of decayed flesh. A few men are in the room, taking softly. 

“Why do I always get put on corpse duty?” The long-haired one laments, straightening the deputy’s chair. He groans softly as he’s brought upright, coughing up dust and grime, before immediately toppling back down as the Whitetail retches back in shock. The gruff looking man crouches next to him, looking over his face intently. “Is that the...?” 

The man who appears to be in charge nods. “Yep,” he says assertively, cutting off the ropes on Rook’s wrists and helping him to his feet. “And we’re going to take him with us.” Cain stumbles along, gripping on to the two men for support as they half-drag him out of the room. His consciousness fades in and out as he’s helped into a truck, laid down on a couch. He can hear arguing, but it feels like background noise. 

“I’ve seen what being in that room does to people. I don’t give a damn who he is or what he’s done. We can’t trust him, Eli-“ 

The bearded man dismisses her. “That’s exactly what people said about you, and look at where we are now, huh?”

The lady falls silent, eyes darting between Cain and the man before her. 

Rook interrupts. “N-no...” His vision fades in and out as he tries to sit up. Eli approaches Isaac cautiously. “Back at the Henbane River...this woman was in the Bliss for less time than I was with Jacob, and she still took a shot at me....I-I get the caution. If you want, you can blindfold me and take me back to Hurk Sr...” He mumbles the rest, Eli softly placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Thank you, deputy, but no.” 

The woman sighs, arms folded across her chest. “He’s putting an out on a silver platter and you’re pushing it away.” 

Eli waves her away with a hand. “We need him. Now more than ever.” She leaves in a huff, and he places his attention back on Rook. “Now you...you get some rest. Jess and your buddy should be here by morning. ” His eyes flit to the fresh bandages across his arm and his chest. His shoulder almost seems to ache at the attention. “Get some rest.” The Whitetail helps him lay back down onto the couch, and his body is grateful for the reprieve, slowly lulling him back to sleep.

___

_Jacob Seed is a monster. I knew that, sure, but his tactics are straight out of my old psych textbooks. No wonder so many were so willing to die for his cause. So ready to kill on sight._

_Thank god for Eli. The dude’s a hell of a marksman, that’s for damn sure. Jess swears by the group, and that’s more than good enough for me. It feels like the Whitetails and the Cougars are Hope County’s biggest hopes for freedom._

_But still...something in me’s telling me that this isn’t over. That Palmer letting me so close into his circle was a mistake._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> College classes started back up, so this one took a little longer than planned- hope you enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> Far Cry 5 is, in fact, still relevant (at least to me....). Planning on updating this at least once a week- hope you enjoy!


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